Princess of the Void - 3.1. Dance

With his engagement at hand, the most terrifying and legendary person of the legal world, Fu Huai’an, returns with a son.

True Gods. Endless Divinities. Primordials. The Ancients. The Chaos. The Greater Chaos. The Infinite Realms.

Heaven. Hell. The Abyss. Purgatory. The Overvoid. The Greater Worlds. The Origin World. The Prime Verse. The Past, Present, Future.

Here. There. Everywhere. Nowhere.

“Why is it that, I cannot find any place that I truly belong? And who, or what... exactly am I, as a Mystique?”

Join our Enigma as he tries to find a place where he could belong, and fit in. While unveiling all the secrets and mysteries related to him, and his family.

They say luck is an uncontrollable force and karma is nothing but a cycle of cause-and-effect that depends on one's deeds. But what if luck somehow really could be manipulated while the way karma worked could be changed?

With the appearance of the Realm Games where every life became worthless and Artifacts that granted various powers, humankind was pushed to the ultimate path of evolution for one last time!

Raven, a simple young man, was also forced to walk on such a path, which with his cursed bad luck became even more difficult than for others!

However, what he did not know at that time was that it was not only humanity that was coerced with such a cruel fate but every living being in the far cosmos too!

Come and follow Raven on his journey and witness how he struggles his way through hardships and how he shifts his seemingly already decided fate that the Gods have destined him to walk from the very start!

war, blood, and betrayal carved him into something else. A legend. A killer. A mercenary whose name struck fear into both criminals and so-called heroes alike.But now, the world had changed. Lines blurred between right and wrong, between justice and vengeance. Should he step into the light, wear the mask of a hero, and fight for a cause greater than himself? Or should he embrace the darkness that had always been his home, a place where morality was just another illusion?“Don’t box me in with your shallow ideas of good and evil,” he muttered, his voice calm but edged with danger. “I do what I want, when I want.”The air was thick with tension as he moved like a shadow through the dimly lit room. The writer had no time to react—one moment, he was scribbling nonsense about legends and myths; the next, a cold barrel pressed against the back of his head.The figure smirked beneath his mask, eyes gleaming with something between amusement and menace.“You wanna write fiction?” he whispered. “Then let me show you how real legends are made.”A single gunshot shattered the silence.As the writer’s body slumped over the desk, the man holstered his weapon, stepping into the faint glow of a flickering neon light.“It’s that simple,” he said, his voice unwavering. “I’m Deathstroke.”